FROM THE POETRY SHELF1920
The Wine
by Sara Teasdale
I cannot die, who drank delight
From the cup of the crescent moon,
And hungrily as men eat bread,
Loved the scented nights of June.
The rest may die—but is there not
Some shining strange escape for me
Who sought in Beauty the bright wine
Of immortality?
Collection and author context
The linked Project Gutenberg text places this poem in Flame and Shadow (1920). Teasdale’s biography and the linked Academy of American Poets and Poetry Foundation profiles provide further context for her lyric poetry and published collections.
Source text: Flame and Shadow (1920) · Project Gutenberg. Further reading: all poems by Sara Teasdale · Academy of American Poets: Sara Teasdale · Poetry Foundation: Sara Teasdale.